Forbidden Fruit
by BurningTheMidnightOil-96
Summary: Christian Grey is our favourite, kinky dominant. He's the ruler of his world at twenty-eight and answers to no one. That is, until Taylor's nineteen-year-old daughter comes to stay. Anastasia Taylor is fierce, fragile and beautiful, and she threatens everything that Christian's world is built upon. Will this unlikely couple overcome all odds or crumble under the pressure?
1. Chapter 1: First Encounter

**Author's Note: So, this is a new story that I've been thinking about writing and wanted to give the first chapter a go, to see how you fabulous people react to it. The premise is simple: Christian is still our favourite dominant, kinky to the end. He currently has a submissive and is twenty-eight years old. Ana is Taylor's nineteen-year-old daughter who is coming to live at Escala for a while after a very traumatic incident. Will our favourite couple still end up together or is there too much stacked against them?**

**WARNING: There will be some topics in this story that some readers may find distressing. I will give advance warning at the beginning of relevant chapters. Read at your own discretion.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to **_**Fifty Shades of Grey**_**. I am only using the characters to manipulate for my fanfiction. However, I do own original characters.**

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**Christian's POV**

"Sir, do you have a moment?"

I look up from my laptop to see Taylor standing in the doorway to my office. He rarely interrupts me when he knows that I'm working, so I guess it must be important.

"Of course. Come in, Taylor."

"Thank you, Sir." He steps inside and closes the door behind him before taking a seat opposite me. He rubs his neck with one hand, and I notice how tense he seems. What's going on?

"Everything okay, Taylor?" I ask, unable to ignore how uncomfortable my head of security seems to be.

He lets out a sigh and drops his hand. "I need to ask a favour, Sir, and it's rather… delicate, to say the least."

I frown and steeple my hands in front of me, leaning back in my chair. "I'm listening."

He shifts slightly in his chair. "As I'm sure you're aware, Sir, I have a daughter."

I nod slowly. "Yes, I'm aware. Forgive me, I can't remember her name right now."

"It's Anastasia, Sir."

"That was it. How is she?"

He grimaces. "Well, that's the thing, Sir. Up until now, I would have said she was great. Doing well in school, on track to get her degree, couldn't be better…" he trails off.

I frown. "And now?"

Taylor drops his head into his hands. "There's been some… difficulties, Sir."

I lean forward, disconcerted by the attitude of the usually formidable Jason Taylor. "What do you, difficulties?"

His fists clench on either side of his head. "She was attacked, Sir. I would rather not go into details, but suffice to say, she got caught up in the wrong crowd. One thing led to another and… she ended up in hospital. You remember that I had a family emergency last week?" I nod. "That was her. She gets out tomorrow, but her mother is being the bitch she's always been and won't take her back – says she's brought bad attention to her and she doesn't want Ana under her roof."

I feel my frown deepen and anger building inside me. "Her own mother said that?"

He nods, still not lifting his head to look at me. "She's a cunt, Sir, plain and simple. It's not safe for Ana to go back to school at the moment and she needs time to recover. So, I need to ask a monumental favour of you –"

I cut him off. "Of course, she can stay here, Taylor, you don't even need to ask."

He finally raises his head and I can see a mixture of emotion swimming in his eyes: gratefulness, surprise, anger, devastation. How one man can hold so many feelings inside and not explode is beyond me.

"Are you sure, Sir? Obviously, she isn't acquainted with your… _relationships_ and I don't want to cause any inconvenience to you."

I lean back in my seat, pondering his words. "Are you happy for her to sign an NDA?"

He does this nodding-shaking-thing with his head. "I suppose so, Sir. I would need to ask her, but I don't imagine it would be a problem."

"Then as long as she can exercise discretion and follow the rules, I have no problem with her staying here." I reach out and grip Taylor's bicep. "You don't ask a lot of me, Taylor, and you've been with me a long time. I appreciate a man who puts his family above all else."

"T-thank you, Boss." Taylor stutters slightly, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

I squeeze his arm once and release him. I stand and move to the liquor cabinet. "Scotch or whiskey?"

Taylor waves me off. "Neither, Sir. I'm on duty."

I look over at him. "Taylor. Scotch or whiskey?"

He gazes at me impassively for a moment. "Scotch please, Sir."

I pour us both two fingers of scotch each and pass a glass to Taylor before taking my seat. "What was she studying at college, anyway?"

He smiles proudly at me. "She's doing behavioural science, Sir. She's studying to be a doctor, eventually."

I grin back at him. "No shit? You must be proud."

He nods. "Very, Sir. She's my life, aside from Gail." He frowns, his eyes dropping back to his drink, and I can tell his thoughts have wandered somewhere darker.

"What happened, Taylor?"

He doesn't look up as he takes a deep swallow from his drink. "If it's all the same to you, Sir, I'd rather let her tell you when she's ready. It… doesn't feel like it's my place, if you get what I mean."

I nod thoughtfully. "I can understand that. I don't like it, but I understand, so I won't push you. Will you be bringing her here tomorrow, then?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, Sir. She'll stay in the staff quarters and she won't be in your way, I promise."

I wave him away. "Don't worry about it, Taylor. Whatever you – and she – need."

He throws back the last of his drink and stands. "Thank you, Sir." With that, he turns and leaves my office, closing the door softly behind him.

Well… this could get interesting.

* * *

The next day, I'm standing in the living room, staring out of the high glass windows. I had a rather sleepless night and found myself at the piano, but I'm not sure why. I guess because the idea of a young woman being attacked – whatever that means – doesn't sit well with me. I don't know much about Taylor's daughter. Only that she's nineteen and, until her eighteenth birthday, had very limited contact with her father. Not that that was her fault, or Taylor's, for that matter. Taylor's ex-wife, Shanice, is a real piece of work and from my limited knowledge, I understand that she kept the two apart to spite Taylor for leaving her. When Anastasia turned eighteen, she confronted her father about his 'lack of interest' in her and the whole messy truth came out. Since then, they've seen each other at least once a month and have become rather close.

The idea of her staying here doesn't entirely sit with me, but I would never have refused such a request, especially from Jason. He truly doesn't ask much of me and he was clearly in need. How could I turn him away? I'll just have to adjust, that's all.

"Sir?" I turn to see Gail standing behind me, watching me quietly. Gail has been with me for nearly as long as Taylor; they've been a couple for so long, I can't imagine a time when they weren't dating.

"Yes, Gail?"

She smiles gently at me. "I just wanted to say thank you, for what you did for Jason. It was very kind of you."

I smile back at her. "Think nothing of it, Mrs Jones."

She opens her mouth to say something else when I hear the front door open. Showtime.

When Taylor walks into the room, I feel like I've been hit with a sledgehammer. My gut twists, the air is sucked from my lungs and I find my knees weakening. Beside him stands the most beautiful young woman that I've ever seen. Her long, brunette hair is tied back in a messy bun, piled high on her head. Her pale, creamy skin is flawless, interrupted only by the light blush decorating her cheeks. She has a slender nose, pouty lips and a soft, heart-shaped face. Her eyes are the brightest blue that I've ever seen, guileless and bottomless. But where her face tells of innocence, her body screams sin. Her breasts are full and perky, sitting to attention and straining against her v-neck, black t-shirt. Her hour-glass figure curves gently into round, soft hips and shapely thighs, encased in a pair of ripped, over-washed jeans. And I swear her ass was made by the gods themselves.

Then I look at her again.

A dark bruise shadows her left eye, black and purple spreading down to her cheekbone. Her bottom lip has a deep, vertical cut where it's been split, and a blue shadow is painted across her jawline. I can see more bruises patterned across her skin, starting at her neck and moving down her bare arms; her wrists are red and raw. She's leaning on a pair of crutches and I can see her right ankle in bandaged where her jeans ride up slightly.

Fury settles low in my belly, burning hot. What the _fuck_ happened to her?

Taylor moves into the room slowly, supporting Anastasia as they move towards me. She grimaces with each step and I find myself striding over to them, trying to lessen her pain by shortening her journey.

"Sir," Taylor greets me, one hand wrapped around Anastasia's back while he uses the free one to gesture to her. "This is my daughter, Anastasia. Ana, this is my boss, Christian Grey."

Anastasia meets my eyes and I can see a fierceness radiating in the depths of her baby blues. She straightens her back and I can tell immediately that she is determined not to appear weak, despite her appearance. I have to admire her for that.

"Good afternoon, Mr Grey. Thank you for agreeing to let me stay here." Fuck. _Me_. Her voice sounds like pure sex, soft and alluring. It's taking all my concentration not to get a hard on right now.

_She's Taylor's daughter. She's Taylor's daughter. She's Taylor's _daughter.

I repeat that mantra to myself as I hold out my hand for her to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia, and please, think nothing of it. I was happy to help."

She shakes my hand firmly, her grip strong despite her small stature. "I promise not to get in your way, or my father's, Mr Grey. I understand that he works for you and this is your home."

I nod and smile slightly. "I appreciate that, thank you. Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you, that would be great."

Between Taylor and myself, we help Anastasia to get situated on the sofa and I sit opposite her while Taylor and Gail take a seat on either side of her. Anastasia turns to me.

"I understand that you would like me to sign a non-disclosure agreement, Mr Grey, is that correct?"

Christ, she gets straight to the point. I nod at her. "Yes, Anastasia. I'm an important man and I have to ensure that certain aspects of my life remain private."

"Of course, I understand. I'll be happy to sign one, Sir. Are there any other house rules that I should be aware of?"

_Oh, fuck, don't call me _'Sir'_! Are you trying to kill me, woman?_ Why the fuck did she have to be a brunette?

"Only one, Anastasia." I reply, desperately working to hide my reaction to her and keep my voice impassive. "I have company over on weekends, from Friday to Sunday. I would appreciate it if you did not venture into the main apartment during those times."

She frowns momentarily but eventually nods. "Very well. I'll remain in the staff quarters during that time."

"Thank you, Anastasia. Gail, if you can take Anastasia to her room now, I need a moment with Taylor."

"Of course, Sir." Gail helps Anastasia to stand, grabs her bags and the two head slowly through the far door. Taylor turns to me.

"Sir?" he questions, undoubtedly waiting for instructions.

"She's… not what I expected, Taylor." I know I sound perturbed and judging by his frown, Taylor's picked up on that.

"What do you mean, Sir?"

I shrug. "It's obvious that she's been through something, but she seems very strong and resilient. It's just not what I expected."

Taylor nods. "She's always been that way. I guess she takes after me."

"I guess she does. I assume you have the NDA for her to sign?"

Taylor nods. "Yes, Sir. I'll get her to sign it today and have it back to you no later than tonight."

"That's fine, Taylor. Well, if there's nothing else, feel free to go and spend some time with your family. I'll call you if I need you."

"Yes, Sir." Taylor stands and leaves the room, leaving me sitting on the sofa, disconcerted and fumbling for control.

_I'm completely fucked._


	2. Chapter 2: Delve a Little Deeper

**Author's Note: First of all, can I just say OH. MY. GOD! Your reactions to this story have been amazing! Thank you all SO much for the positive feedback, the comments and the messages. You fabulous, kinky people have been requesting the next chapter, so I figured I had to oblige. I hope you enjoy :)**

**WARNING: There will be some topics in this story that some readers may find distressing. I will give advance warning at the beginning of relevant chapters. Read at your own discretion.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to _Fifty Shades of Grey_. I am only using the characters to manipulate for my fanfiction. However, I do own original characters.**

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**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CONTENT THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND DISTRESSING. IF YOU STRUGGLE WITH CERTAIN TOPICS SURROUNDING MENTAL HEALTH, I ADIVISE YOU TO STOP HERE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

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**Christian's POV**

I find myself lying in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and unable to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing _her_. Anastasia. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I thinking about her? The brunette with the blue fire in her eyes.

My mind keeps replaying dinner tonight. I allowed Taylor, Gail and Anastasia to join me, something I never do. For some bizarre reason, I felt compelled to make Anastasia feel at home. Like she belongs here.

_**Earlier that night…**_

"_Did you find your room okay, Anastasia?" I ask her as Taylor helps her settle into a chair opposite me at the dining table. She lets out a soft whimper as she settles, her eyes closing briefly as she bites back the pain. _

"_Yes, thank you, Mr Grey. It's more than generous." She replies, her eyes meeting mine and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I feel kind of guilty, actually."_

_I frown at her, crossing my arms and leaning forward on the table. "Why do you say that?"_

_She shrugs lightly. "I feel like I'm mooching, I guess. I'm staying in this palace in the sky, I'm not paying any board or rent, I have no way of paying you back… it seems greedy." Her eyes drop to the table as she speaks, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth._

_I fight back at groan. I want to bite that lip. "Anastasia… look at me." She doesn't lift her gaze, and now she's playing with her fingers. "Anastasia, please, look at me."_

_She slowly raises her eyes but not her head, and she looks at me from under her lashes. Fuck. _Me. _Please don't look at me like that._

"_Yes, Mr Grey?" she asks, her voice quiet._

"_Please. Don't ever think that way. You are welcome here, okay? I don't know what you've been through, and I'm not going to ask. It's your choice if and when you want to tell me. But you. Are. Welcome. Taylor and Gail have been close to me for a long time, and you are their family. Do you understand?"_

_I don't know what my expression must say but I can only imagine that it's as intense as my tone. Her face changes and she releases her lip with a small gasp._

_Before she can respond, Taylor returns to the room with Gail; Gail carrying a large chicken pot pie and Taylor carrying a bowl of steaming vegetables in one hand and a bottle of chilled white wine in the other. He pauses as he sees Anastasia and I leaning towards each other over the table._

"_Everything okay out here?" he asks, his voice slightly perturbed._

_I lean back and give him a tight smile. "Absolutely fine. Let's eat, shall we?"_

The rest of the evening went relatively smoothly after that. Anastasia didn't say much, and she barely ate. It aggravated me to watch her pushing her food around her plate, but for once, I didn't comment; it seemed like she had enough on her plate without one of my lectures about food.

Eventually, I retired to my room and this is where I've been lying ever since, staring at the ceiling and fighting to get that brunette out of my head.

_Just two more days until Collette is here, _I think to myself, fisting my hand in my hair. _You can manage this until then, Grey, and then you can cane the shit out of her._

I sigh and throw the covers off, swinging my legs out of the bed. This is ridiculous. She is one little brunette and _not _a submissive. Get her out of your head. She's not worth the mental space.

Cracking my neck, I stand and leave my bedroom, heading for my piano. My old, faithful friend. The music helps to clear my head and the movement is distracting; I can't focus on anything else but the music.

I stroke the keys, not trying to control the music but allowing it to flow freely from my fingers. I hum softly along with the music, forgetting about everything else.

Suddenly, I hear a noise from the shadows. Glancing up, I spot a body shifting near the doorway.

"Taylor?" I murmur, squinting into the darkness. "Is that you?"

There's another shift at the door and this time, a soft curse as someone stumbles. I frown.

"Who's there?" I hiss, slowly rising from the stool.

"Sorry, Mr Grey. It's just me." The soft voice that comes out of the shadows is accompanied by the thud of a crutch as Anastasia steps into view. I swallow as I take in her attire: tiny shorts that ride up her thighs, a plum vest that clings to every curve and exposes more skin than I'm comfortable with.

"Did no one ever teach you that it's impolite to eavesdrop?" I snarl at her. My anger is admittedly unfounded but I can't help it; she's taken me off guard and I don't like it.

She steps further into the light and drops her gaze to the floor. "My apologies, Mr Grey. I came to get some water… I didn't think that anyone would be awake."

"Well, as you can see, someone is, so I suggest you get your water and leave." My tone is harsh and angry.

Her eyes snap back up to me and her expression hardens. "No problem, Mr Grey. Please forgive the intrusion." She snaps and slowly limps into the kitchen, refusing to look at me again.

I sigh, annoyed. I _might _have been unnecessarily harsh just then, but in my defense, she shouldn't have been watching me from the shadows like some stalker.

_Please, _she's _the stalker? _my subconscious whispers at me, his eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest. _You're the one who can't stop thinking about her. _You're_ the one who can't stop picturing those long, pale legs wrapped around your waist  
_Oh, give me a break! She's nineteen and my head of security's daughter – I don't think of her that way.  
_Suuuuuure, you don't. So you weren't just imagining laying her down on your piano and slamming into her over and over again until she screams your name? C'mon, who are you trying to kid?  
_Oh, piss off.

Just as I finish arguing with myself, I hear a smash come from the kitchen, followed by a string of curses that I didn't think could come from such a pretty mouth. I barrel into the kitchen to find Anastasia on her knees, trying to pick up what was once a crystal tumbler.

She glances up at me as I enter the room, her face pale and her expression contrite. "I'm sorry, Mr Grey. I was reaching for a glass and my crutches slipped…"

I wave her off. "Don't worry about it, Anastasia." I crouch down beside her and begin to help her pick up the glass.

"I'll pay for the glass, Sir." She mutters as she brushes the pieces into a small pile. "I swear I will. It was a – ow! Shit!" she recoils quickly from a large piece of glass she'd be about to pick up and I see a thin line of blood snaking its way down from the tip of her index finger.

"Anastasia!" I grab her wrist and pull her hand towards me, inspecting the cut. "Are you okay?"

But she doesn't answer. Her entire body has frozen, every muscle still, her pale eyes fixated on my hand holding her wrist.

"Anastasia?" I ask again, leaning closer to her. "Ana, can you hear me?"

Her breathing is picking up speed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She wobbles precariously on her knees and I'm afraid that she's about to keel over into the pile of glass. Instinctively, I grab her other wrist to steady her and that's when all hell breaks loose.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" the shrieking, wailing cry that comes from her scares the ever-loving shit out of me and I recoil in surprise. "NO, GET OFF OF ME!" she screams, her eyes wide and glazed as she wrenches her arms against my hold.

"ANASTASIA!" I shout, holding on to her wrists in an attempt to keep her still. "Anastasia, what's wrong?!"

"_Please!_" she sobs, tears falling rapidly down her face, her body shaking so hard that I'm afraid she'll go into convulsions. "_Please_, let me go!"

She pulls again, violently, and I nearly pitch forward on my face from her strength alone. She's thrashing in my grasp, every muscle tense and snapping, her jaw clenching so hard, I'm sure she's going to break her teeth. She attempts to bite one my hands, her mouth contorted in a snarl, her pupils constricted to small pinpricks as she screams.

All of a sudden, Taylor comes flying into the room, one hand on his gun and a blazing fury in his eyes. He pulls up short when he spots us on the floor, me clinging to Anastasia as she cowers away from me.

"What the _fuck _is going on?" he growls, his eyes darting between myself and Ana.

I release Anastasia's wrists and hold my hands up in self-defense. "I didn't do anything, I swear!"

Taylor looks as if he's about to take me up the wall but we're both distracted by Anastasia. As soon as I release her, she lets out a gasping breath and falls back onto her ass, crawling away from me until she's pressed into the corner, curled into a tight ball with her knees drawn up to her chest, one hand moving to shove her hair back and the other clutching at her chest.

"You're okay…" she whispers to herself, her eyes screwing shut. "You're okay, you're okay."

"Ana…" Taylor crouches in front of her and reaches forward, slowly wrapping his hands around her upper arms. She flinches in his grasp but doesn't lose her shit again. "Ana, what's wrong? What's going on?"

She shakes her head, her lips moving as she whispers her mantra to herself over and over again.

"Ana!" Taylor raises his voice and her eyes flash open, fixing on his. "Ana, breathe. In and out, slowly." He takes in a deep breath and slowly releases it through his nose; she mimics him, never breaking eye contact and I watch as her body begins to relax.

"Sweetheart, talk to me." He murmurs, his voice low and consoling.

"I don't know what happened…" she whispers, her voice cracking. "One minute, I was picking up glass with Mr Grey and the next… I was…" she trails off, as if unable to finish.

"You were back there." He finishes for her, his hands moving up to either side of her face. "You're not there, baby. You're right here, with me, with Mr Grey… it's over. I promise you."

She nods rapidly, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks. "I'm here, with you. I'm not there… I'm not there…"

"That's right, darling." Taylor nods and uses his thumbs to wipe her tears away. "You're here. Shall we get you back to bed?"

She nods again and he slowly helps her to her feet. I rise too, slowly, afraid to startle her. That's when I spot Gail standing in the doorway, wrapped in a flannel robe and watching us with teary eyes.

"Gail?" Taylor glances back at her. "Can you take Ana back to her room? I'll be there in a minute." Gail nods and steps forward, wrapping her arm around Ana's waist. I get a heavy dose of de-ja-vu as I watch her escort Anastasia out of the room.

I turn to Taylor as soon as they disappear from the room. "Jason, I swear, I didn't do anything."

Taylor turns to look at me, his gaze steely. "Yes, you did. You just didn't know it."

I frown at him. "What are talking about? I hardly touched her! I was just trying to help!"

Jason sighs heavily and drops into one of the stools at the breakfast bar. I sit across from him, the glass on the floor all but forgotten.

"Sir… you know how you don't allow anyone to touch certain… _areas_ of you? Like your back? It triggers you?"

I nod slowly. "Yes, what about it?"

Taylor sighs again. "Well… ever since the attack, Ana has similar… triggers. You've seen the marks on her wrists, right?"

"Yes, they're hard to miss."

"… she was bound, Sir. Bound at the wrists with rope… or cable ties… or string, she hasn't actually told me. But it's left her scarred. Like PTSD, I suppose. She can't be restrained by the wrist – not by rope, not by restraints, not even by hands."

I gape at him. "How do you know?"

He drops his head. "When I went to visit her in the hospital, she was… convulsing in her sleep, trying to talk but it was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs…" he swallows as if he's fighting down bile and choking out the words. "I made the mistake of holding her wrist… she was struggling, I was afraid she would hurt herself… anyway, she woke up and looked straight at me, but it was like she wasn't _seeing _me, like she was looking through me. And then she just went mad. Screaming, begging, flailing. I thought she was having a fit.

"The doctors came rushing in and sedated her. In an attempt to keep her from doing any further damage to herself, they put light restraints on her – just something to stop her from harming herself. When she woke and felt the restraints… I thought she was possessed. I never knew the human body could contort that way. That was our first clue that something… _awful _had left her traumatised.

"She won't talk about it. I don't even know all the details, only the basics that the police could give me. She won't make an official statement, she won't give names… every time someone brings the incident up, she shuts down. Her physical injuries are healing, Sir, she's getting stronger every day… but she has some serious mental battles ahead of her."

I run my hands through my hair. "Jesus, Taylor, why didn't you tell me?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't think I'd have to. I didn't think you'd be likely to touch her that way… didn't think you'd have cause to. My apologies, Sir. I should have told you sooner."

I nod. "Yes, you should have." His eyes flash up to mine but his expression is unreadable. "That being said, what's done is done and we can't change it now. Just… please let Anastasia know that I'm deeply sorry and that I didn't know. I'll be more careful in future."

He stands and nods. "I will, Sir. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to check on her and then go to bed. It's been one hell of a day."

I wave him off. "Please do, Taylor. Get some rest."

"Goodnight, Sir."

I watch him leave before dropping my head onto the breakfast bar with a hard _thud_. What the hell is going on here? This girl is beautiful and strong and fierce… but also as fucked up as I am, with demons clinging to her back and a darkness torturing her soul. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to her – my essence recognises another as damaged as me.

_Riiiiight_, my inner voice hisses sarcastically. _It has nothing to do with her killer rack and phenomenal ass, of course_.

No, actually, it doesn't. Don't get me wrong, she _is _attractive and she does call to me on a physical level. But it's more than that. It's something in my blood, my soul; something that sits deep in the pit of my stomach and writhes like a tangle of snakes fighting to get out.

I groan and thump my head against the breakfast bar again. _What the hell am I going to do?_


End file.
